Sherlock returns!
by Garnet Dark
Summary: The infamous Sherlock Holmes returns to 221B baker street to tell of his survival! M rated for dark themes herein. Johnlock, in progress, slash-don't read if don't like.
1. SHERLOCK'

**Sherlock Holmes-what happened after the fall.**

I sat in Watson's quaint little study. It was so…how can I put it? 'Not at all like Watson' but it was what I expected of Mary with the pink little chairs and laced doilies. He was typing away on his typewriter, I had deducted that Watson wasn't doing too well, from the black bags under the lids of his eyes, to the wrinkled suit, the way the ink on his hands and the coffee on his shirt cuff suggested he'd been there all night-and the fact I'd watched him-he also carried an air of a widower but his Mary was in fact well and alive, he had sighed about 48 times in just one hour. I sat and wondered how long the post would take to get here-I deducted that 1-I was getting cramp in my legs and lower back; 2-I had an itchy nose; 3-I hadn't moved from this spot since 6:00 last evening. In conclusion-I really had to go to the bathroom.

Mary came into the room, "John," she had the post with her, "John?" she placed the package on the desk "uhum?" Watson replied "you should probably pack. It's half past two and the carriage is coming at four," she leaned down next to him, "um," he mumbled at her still typing "it's going to be a beautiful week in Brighton," Watson tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace "it'll be fun," he moved the typewriter along "I'm looking forward to it," he continued to type, Mary looked at him with an arched brow and said "you know I miss him too, in my own way," his typing ceased and they were quiet for a while. Then he turned and said, "he would of wanted us to go," Mary smiled and let out a little chuckle "he would have wanted to come with us," Watson smiled and Mary stood "when is Mrs Hudson coming for Gladstone?" Watson reached for the big wrapped up box (my present for him) and said "er, soon," he frowned at the box and I had to suppress my erg to laugh or jump up in excitement-childish of me I know-"three o'clock," he opened up the brown paper, revealing the wooden box he slid open the top and looked inside, pulling out Mycroft's special supply of oxygen, a shocked expression crossed his face as he held the apparatus, a knowing look spreading across his face in a mixture of sorrow and hope, placing the objects to the side he said "Mary?!" he stood abruptly with the oxygen tankard "who delivered this parcel?" her voice came from outside "the postman," she said confused he marched out of the room "the usual chap or did he look peculiar?" he sounded calm, by this point I whipped off my head covering shushing Gladstone, pointing at him to keep his head down. And before I went to show myself to my fellow conspirators couldn't help but look at what Watson was typing. It said: '…_any attempt at finding the bodies was absolutely hopeless, and so there, deep down in that dreadful cauldron, of swirling water and seething foam, will lie for all time, the most dangerous criminal, and the foremost champion of the law, of their generation. I shall ever regard him as the best, and the wisest man, whom I have ever known.'_

_The end_

I swallowed against the hard lump lodged in my throat. That was…oh Watson, what have I done? Well one thing I could right straight away_…'the end __**?**__'_ click, there, that's better. Now for the matter of Dr Watson, a more delicate affair; I made it to the top step before Watson ran towards the stair case. He looked up at me, Mary at his side, his cheeks paled-drained of colour, Mary gasped and her hand fluttered to her throat-now that was something funny, she was usually made of stronger stuff. I fidgeted under all the attention, standing here in my undergarments, "Watson I-I…" I didn't know what to say, suddenly he snapped. Snarling in rage "NO!" he rushed up the stairs, I put my hands out palms up, in surrender, fearful of this Watson, he pushed me into the wall "Watson!" his face transformed into a stranger, he'd never looked at me like this, his hands tight vices around my forearms "NO! No! No! You! How…? How could you?!" he yelled into my face, banging my back into the hard wall, my body reverberated with the force, the back of my head bouncing off the wall, then Watson began to cry, "why?" and his hands came across my chest as he gripped the neck of my urban camouflage, his head coming to rest on my shoulder, sobbing, his body shuddering with the effort to hold it together. I wrapped my arms around him; I looked over at Mary, who was crying too. "I'm sorry," was all I could say, I wanted to embrace him since I returned to London, seeing the misery I had left him in. Mrs Hudson at that moment chose to walk through the door, she dropped her bags, "MR HOLMES!" she shrieked, and then went faint; Mary propped up the older lady and led her to the drawing room, glaring at me over her shoulder. I simply couldn't care about them at this moment, reunited with Watson once again. "Watson," I said softly he cried harder "John," he looked up at me then, "pull yourself together," I scolded sounding cold hearted when in fact I was as heartbroken as he was. He wiped his eyes, sniffed and glared at me "you didn't think to write?" I smiled sadly "I couldn't Watson," was all I was willing to say, he pushed against me again, banging me into the wall, punishing me for leaving him like this, "gently Watson!" I reprimanded him, "what?" he said "I said gently Watson, my body's not what it used to be, not without the best Doctor to look after me," I joked making light of the situation, his professional side took over, assessing me. Seeing my discomfort he said, "Come, sit down, tell me what happened," supporting me, noticing the extent of the injury of my knee. We entered the drawing room, Watson supporting me, Gladstone at heel; Mary was fanning a distressed Nanny, who was a little more worse for wear. "Oh! Mr Holmes! I'm so glad you're not dead, but how? How did you survive?" she tittered at me, "all in good time nanny, let me sit and I'll tell you of my survival," then I sat in the comfy armchair, Watson pulling the stool to sit by me, not taking his eyes off me for a moment. I told them my edited version of the truth, as always they were never to know the extent of how things went. I still remember it well…


	2. Cold waters

The cold air whipping at my face as I made my decision of saving my dear Watson, the fear and adrenaline rushing through my body as Moriarty lit my cigarette. I blew the ash into his face, distracting him, and I got him into a lock hold, thinking I'd got him, but that was when Watson walked through the door. That's when I knew that there was only one way where Watson wouldn't get harmed. I had to go over the balcony, but by hell I was taking Moriarty with me. I took one last look at Watson, before I closed them, throwing myself backwards off the balcony, Moriarty screaming at my face as I came to accept my fate…or not. The freezing cold air bit at my face and beat at my body pulling my body away from the screaming professor, sending my body spiralling down into the freezing cold abyss; as I entered the frigid water, it literally took my breath away, but at least for now the fall hadn't killed me. I couldn't feel my body to see if I had any injuries sustained by the fall into the rock hard, freezing water as I was dragged through the currents of the fast moving river. I had tried then to stop myself being dragged off by trying to grab the rocks at the bottom of the riverbed, shredding the skin on my hands as icy needles of pain stabbed my flesh that was exposed in the water. By now my chest was burning, it felt like it would cave in, and every time I kicked my feet up to get to the surface for a breath I would be dragged under again soon after. It felt like hours had passed but it was but minuets, as I entered the smooth waters of a lake, I kicked up to the surface, gasping for air, my lungs trying to take in as much oxygen as it could. I failed about in the water-as it was known I couldn't swim, I bobbed about for a bit, face barely above the water before my waterlogged brain told me to float to the bank on my back. I felt a shooting pain in my knee now I was used to the sub-zero temperatures of the cold water, it wasn't right. Blood loss: mild. Internal damage: most likely extensive. Loss of feeling in fingers and toes; pain all over. Likelihood of being found in time: none. Chance of survival: estimated 18-22%. Conclusions: my shoulder could be better and needed to get warm now, the likely hood of that around this area: nil. The back of my head and shoulders hit the bank and with trembling arms I hauled myself up with only the strength to pull myself far enough that my waist was out of the water, my leg totally useless-definitely dislocated. I was aware of someone else lying beside me but I was too weary to move my head to the side, but I had reason it was the professor. Who else could it be? I could only wait to get enough energy to finish off the old dog. For now I rested up, my arch nemesis beside me, listening to his halting breath, hoping that that one would be his last. That night I drifted in and out of consciousness, dreaming of Watson, his face as I went over the balcony-oh John, I am sorry…I felt hands clamped onto my lapels, and my eyes flew open. The professor looked better than I did, a big gash on his head and his clothes wrinkled from the dried water, his foot was broken, he had a limp, and I could see he was very, very angry. He tried to pull me on my feet but seeing it was useless he half dragged half carried me over into the water, a snarl on his face. He was going to drown me if I didn't act fast.

Then he spoke, "cleaver Mr Holmes, very cleaver," he grunted with the exertion carrying me gave an ex-boxer. "I should have guessed you weren't the self preservation type," we were up to the waist in water now, "but then again I had severely underestimated you before didn't I?" I was wriggling I his hold, trying to get his hands to loosen their grip. I punched his arms but really it was a pitiful attempt because of my shoulder. "Sherlock, really I thought you smarter than that," he drawled, I hated it when he used my first name, "we both know there's no hope for you, give in," his throat hurt as much as mine did, the salty water did that to us, his voice was strained. "Never!" I glared, floating in the cold waters of the lake, "I had hoped you'd say that," he grinned, "Its too bad really, Mr Holmes, we could have avoided all of this, just think, we could have been good together, me and you, of course you say you don't remember our first ever meeting, as children, you aren't that clever to delete that kind of information from your delectable brain," I knew of what he spoke of, we met once, at school, when we were boys, about the age of 11, he had followed me into an alley by the schools walls and tried to get me to join him, little did I know what he'd become or that he would hold it against me, but that is another story. Now he was staring down at me, waiting for an answer to which I gave him a blank look, I really had forgotten about it, and he growled. "Really Holmes, you didnt forget did you? Tsk, tsk, Too bad, I was really looking forward to rubbing it in your face." he was lowering me into the water, "you know I was looking forward to this, killing you, and I have to say, this is soo much better than I had anticipated." I was starting to panic, my breathing coming in short gasps, my shoulders in the water now my head the only part out, "you know what makes this all the more better? Hum? Knowing that you thought you had saved your little pet, poor little defenceless John. I think that I'll kill his pesky little wife first, in front of him, quick and easy, don't want to tire myself out before the grand finale. Now with John, I want to savour it, I think I'll start with pulling out each little fingernail, watch him squirm, I've always been fond of whips you know, so I'll continue form there, keep him alive for a few days, the things I could do to him Holmes, ooh, its delicious!" I feel sick! John! "How to kill him, hmm, now that's the tricky part, I could use an Iron chair, burn him alive, or maybe I could drown him like you, or I could flay all of the skin of his bones, maybe just cut him and let him blead to death...so many possibilities," I spat in his face, "you are one sick...!" "Tsk, tsk," he dunked me under, the water filled my open mouth and I fought with all I had got to get him to let go, just when I was at the point of my lungs collapsing without oxygen he pulled me back up, I gasped for breath, "now, now Holmes I wasn't finished, it is terribly rude to interupt, where was I...? oh yes, killing your Dr Watson. All of this-all of what has happened could have been prevented, if you'd have just been mine!" his face was up close to mine, I flinched, remembering what this man was capable of, remembering his filthy hands and breath on my skin form that day in the library, the day I asked him to keep John out of it. This man terrified me, he was a Monster. I remembered the pain those hands could create if he had wanted, my shoulder was proof of that. He was sick, twisted, and now he would kill me. I would die, for nothing and John would think us both dead, he would be sad, if not safe, but now I could not save him, this was all my fault. My own fault, tears glistened down my face, "oh, how romantic, a little tear, how...sentimental of you Holmes," he was loving this, giving me a smug, satisfied look, that made me want to tear his eyes out, he purred in his throat like a cat, this whole situation reminded me of a cat playing with a mouse, he was toying with me. I will not give in. Never. "hum? What was that?" he asked leaning in close "i said you'll never win," glaring up at his blue eyes, "oh that's where you are wrong, my friend, truly wrong. I always win, in the end, Ive got to say, i'm a little disappointed, I thought you were better than this. _All my life I've been searching for distractions. And you were the best distraction and now I don't even have you. Because I've beaten you. And you know what? In the end it easy. It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you're ordinary. Just like all of them." __rubbed his face against mine, stubble scratching against stubble, "youre insane!" I snarled "you're just getting that now?" I grunted at that "I stopped you though, the moneys gone, everything you spent your whole life on...gone, theres nothing for you to go back to, Mycroft will stop you!" hope, bright, shining hope lifted me "Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to." he had me there, "Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you. Prepared to do anything. Prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. So let me go, if you want me to shake hands with you in hell, I shall not disappoint you." it was worth a try, I could at least try for Johns sake, "Nah. You talk big. Nah. You're ordinary. You're ordinary. You cant help me, not any more. You're on the side of the angels. " he was talking gibberish now, "Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them. You know as well as I do the things that I have done, the things I would do if it got the results I needed." he jolted in shock, "No. You're not. I see. You're not ordinary. No. You're me. Thank you. Sherlock Holmes. Thank you." __he gave a malicious grin and said "__Good bye Mr Holmes," __and with that he lowered me into the water..._


End file.
